


On'davo, Minn'da (Ready to soar, Mother)

by halduronbrightwang



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Abandonment, Adopted Children, Coming of Age, Dragons, F/F, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Military Training, Parenthood, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halduronbrightwang/pseuds/halduronbrightwang
Summary: Just as the Sin'dorei are addicted to magic, once the Orcs were similar with the fel. Aniryean Felo'dal found home among the orcs thanks to this understanding, more a home than he had with his own





	1. Chapter 1

A usual sight for those used to war- orphanages full of the children of war, parents lost to battle and other cruelties that came with the near lawless battlefields. Packed into the tiny building, sleeping in shoddy beds and playing with cheap toys, the kids inside were more aware of the world than people gave them credit for.

So many were taken from the battlefield that had spread to envelop towns and their homes, or lost fleeing the fight. Mostly, the ones taking up shelter in Orgrimmar were orcs and trolls, like most in the city, but the combined forces of the war with the Alliance, war beyond the Dark Portal, and addition of the Blood Elves to the Horde saw a huge influx of orphans to the point of other cities were overwhelmed and sent them to the capital lying in the deserts of Durotar. The orphans from Silvermoon, they in particular looked out of place among the orc and troll children, but just as any other had faced the horrors of war. Ketar Worghowl eyed the orphanage and one of its charges, a young blood elf, as he was tossed out the door into the dusty street. She turned back to the other orc and his wares, blades of every kind but couldn’t help but turn around again when screaming started. 

The fiery haired boy had run back in and through the open doorway she could see him, pinning another child to the ground and clawing at his face, obviously the winner of this fight despite his lean, almost starved stature. The mother matron again had the boy tossed out, and this time, he stayed in the dirt with a pitiful sniffle, barely being avoided by people on their mounts who merely stepped around or over him. Ketar finished up her dealings with the weapon dealer and turned to leave the Drag for the Valley of Wisdom, she had business with the blacksmith as well, but the blood elf runt in the street was next to impossible to ignore as he began shouting profanities at the closed, and Ketar was fairly sure, locked orphanage door from in the middle of the street. Throwing down her newly bought armor, the orc woman grabbed the boy by his collar and dragged him up from the ground, holding him away from herself as he attempted to hit her.

“Boy! What is it that you must cause such a racket at this hour?” She demanded of him, even as he tried to claw at her thick skin and kick fruitlessly. “Answer me, whelp, before a guard decides to deal with you.” He stopped struggling, instead staring head on into her eyes, his own burning like felfire with all the anger and fury of a frenzied battle worg. Ketar set the boy down as he began to shout, rubbing at her temples. She was getting a bit too old for this, the racket of children no longer being a prideful thing and more a nuisance but something about this boy was different, to which he proved in his answer.

“He was making fun of me, saying that I’m weak and couldn’t take him!” He spat out definite insults in Thallassian, that she did not understand but knew likely too mean and cruel for someone of his age to know and continued, angrily. “-They think I can’t fight, I was showing them I could because I’m better than any of them!” That statement she highly doubted to be true, but his spirit and determination had caught her attention. This boy, even as he started kicking rocks as if he were imagining they were the heads of the other children, amused the orc woman. He was scrawny and thin, likely not any more muscle than he needed to move corded around his bones, but still he fought and tried his damnedest to prove himself the best. It was for damn sure he had a temper on him as well, purposefully kicking a rock right at a passing wolfrider, who leaped from his mount and grabbed the boy by his throat. The two screamed at one another, profanities and threats, but before the wolf rider could break his neck or choke him, Ketar stepped in, throwing the man off the boy. He drew his axe to which she bared her tusks and snarled at him with her own sword in hand until he backed off and returned on his way to the center of the city. 

Again, Ketar faced the boy, who did not even have an apology. “I could have taken him on my own, you know.” Indignantly he began to walk away without so much as a thank you. It was the last Ketar had seen of him that day, even when she returned in the evening to pick up some herbs for her mate’s alchemy potions, one of which to help her aching back. He didn’t seem to be anywhere that Ketar had looked, although she wasn’t looking particularly hard, simply out of curiosity on if he had started another fight and been tossed bloody and broken into a ditch somewhere. While passing through the Drag once again, the Matron Mother stopped her, beckoning her to the orphanage. 

“Lok’tar, Matron Battlewail, what is it you wish?” She greeted the fellow aging woman with familiarity, for many times Ketar herself had been here during Children’s Week and other times beyond that, surveying the children to see if one was deemed worthy of becoming her own. After all, her and her mate had never had any of their own, but had talked about the subject, but it never had gone much further than that. Battlewail sighed, taking Ketar’s hand in her own and clasping it tight. 

“My old friend, if you see that child, please tell him to not return until he can control his temper. It is saddening, but he’s fought with three other children this week alone, I cannot keep the other children safe so long as he is so… so full of anger and hate to anyone he sees.” Battlewail looked truly devastated by the decision and Ketar was about to reply when she overheard heard Tosamina as she bandaged a wound on an orc child’s arm. 

“Tosamina, is Aniryean coming back?” The child asked, to which the orc woman shook her head. “He had better not, or I’ll throw him out the door again and again until he doesn’t.”

“Did he do that?” Ketar asked the matron and long time friend, who nodded solemnly. “Yes, and the last one he tried to claw out her eye. That boy is dangerous, just as crazed as his parents were.” She asked the woman to explain, coming inside to sit with her.

“That boy, Aniryean Felo’dal is his name, he was found beyond the dark portal. His parents died in Outland, they were followers of their prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider to the end. We do not know what killed them, but he was found alone and half dead wandering the wastes outside the keep that man had locked himself in. When they brought him back here he refused to eat and fought anyone he came near him. I thought we could help him, as we had so many other orphans but he is just too much trouble. The attention and supplies used to treat everyone he’s fought could have gone to another child who needed it more, you understand?” Battlewail explained to Ketar, who nodded with earnest. “I see, matron, it is no wonder you tossed him on his hide.”  
After some catching up, Ketar eventually bid the matron farewell and returned home. Her back was aching, her knees throbbed, and she was tired. The hard baked soil of the Durotar roads was rough on her knees, both injured from war and time but she continued on, coming to the small house she and her mate called home. It was cool inside and her mate, Siyegg, was waiting with a meal already set out and a woolen shawl thrown over her shoulder. Over the freshly roasted boar she told her of the things that had happened today, from her students’ victories to the orphan boy attempting to fight a wolf rider on his own. They laughed at the sheer audacity of it.

“You know, Siyegg, he fought like an orc. A weak, little orc whelp, but he could be a great warrior one day.” Siyegg snorted. Though Ketar had a great eye for who to train, the boy had no home and already was making enemies. “But with no one to pay for his arms, he won’t get very far. Besides, he can’t just sleep in an alley or in your training ring waiting on his next lesson.” The shaman had a point, even as she tore into her boar ribs the conversation drifted every which way but kept coming back to the boy. Finally, Siyegg got annoyed. 

“Ketar, you are my stars and my moon, but that boy is not worth training if he does not have a family to bring honor to.”

She had a point in that, a very good point.

The next morning, as the sun barely began to scrape across the sky, Ketar went again to Orgrimmar to gather her trainees for this morning’s rounds. Her usual morning routine went smoothly, the young warriors to be hitting each other furiously with wooden swords and axes with all the might they could muster as their proud parents watched, bragging on which of their spawn would bring the warchief Arthas’ head one day. It was far off dreams for ones so young, but it gave them their second winds to have their parents watching with pride. The session came to an end and already tired with it not even being midday, Ketar sat to enjoy some water and a roll from home before her next group came along. 

Unlike the previous session, these were real warriors, with only Ketar’s word keeping them from headed off to war and to kill Alliance dogs where they stood. No parents followed these men and women of the Horde to training, instead, some had their own children coming to watch them. Among the tiny crowd of warriors waiting to be evaluated on their skill, a familiar scrawny blood elf sat amongst them, nibbling on an apple. Orcs murmured about the boy’s presence and it caught Ketar’s attention.

“Boy, what are you doing here?” She asked him, and without hesitation he answered. “I want to be a warrior.” A few orcs laughed, asking aloud how someone so tiny hoped to train among them. 

He also didn’t have a copper to his name. Oh how Ketar wanted to tell him to leave, to save face and make him go back to the orphanage but she remembered her friend’s words, that he had an untamed fury inside him and had already hurt a few of the other children. 

“Alright then, blood elf.” His eyes shot up, as if he wasn’t expecting her to actually agree. “If you want to be a warrior, first you must show me you can handle it. Grab a blade and challenge Nagg’s son to a duel.” 

Aniryean leaped from his seat and picked up the first sword he could reach from the racks, a longsword much too long for himself and immediately began to swing at the unfortunate orc. While his form was completely sloppy, undoubtedly the first time he’d ever held a sword in his short life, he had fight in him. Ketar let him stay the rest of the training session and made a deal with the boy. “Your name, it is Anireen, yes?” The elvish name was rough on Ketar’s tongue and he corrected her. 

“Aniryean Felo’dal.” 

“Aniryean, you have all the fury a warrior will ever need, but you do not have restraint. You will never be a warrior without it.” The boy looked crushed for a moment, and Ketar kneeled to be at his height. “You also do not have a home, or money. If you were to come, and stay with my mate, learn restraint, I will train you into a warrior. But!” She stopped as he lit up again. “-But, you must prove yourself as much or more as any orc, and you will not train for free. You’ll clean the field every morning, polish the blades and sharpen them, and you will do everything and more I expect of an apprentice.”

It was daunting to ask that of a child, hardly a teenager, but the boy knew what he wanted. He wanted to fight, to feel that fury in his veins and course through him like the wildest rivers through a canyon or lava from a volcano. He said yes, yes every time Ketar asked him and piled more responsibility onto him he still agreed wholeheartedly and half the time asked when he could start. She made the boy eat and watched him wolf down the food like a starving buzzard descending on a carcass. 

“So,” He began, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Where will I stay?” 

Ketar thought a moment to the many conversations she’d had with Siyegg before. How they wanted children, to take in one of a fallen warrior and raise them up to be greater than before and bring honor to them. Perhaps, even though he wasn’t an orc, this boy would prove to be what Siyegg and her were looking for. 

“You will stay with me and my mate, as our son."


	2. Chapter 2

Siyegg did not take the news of her new son as well as Ketar had hoped. The boy in question sat outside, happily sharpening a blade with a stone while the two fought. The shaman slammed her fist on the table, which shook and knocked a stein from it, the liquid quickly getting absorbed by the dirt floor.   
“Ketar! I didn’t mean that we would take the boy in!” She sat, with her head between her hands. The other woman took a seat next to her, gently rubbing her shoulder and leaning on her. 

“I do not want to waste his potential, Siyegg.”

“Where will that boy sleep? I know we had talked about taking in a child before, but we do not have anything for him, not even a bed, or clothes-” 

“Hush, my love, you worry too much.” Ketar kissed her and stroked the shaman’s hair, not yet done up in her usual braid and still mused and messy from sleep. “I will handle it. And we are getting old, Siyegg, if not now, when? When we are too old and too frail to raise one?” The other orc huffed, but with a smile punched her mate on the shoulder to which they both laughed, beginning a bout of play fighting as the boy came back inside to see what the racket was. 

As a group, the three of them ate for the morning and Ketar took Aniryean in back of the house where she kept some of the more beat down and worn training dummies. She instructed him in the proper way to hold his sword, a slightly warped blade she was in the process of repairing some months ago but had never gotten around to finally completing. During one of their breaks, after Siyegg went back inside from tending the small plot of crops planted nearby, he beckoned Ketar over. The woman leaned in as his words were barely a whisper.

“She doesn’t like me.”

“Give her time, pup.” Aniryean didn’t seem comforted by this at all, instead staring at the ground and swinging his legs. “What is the matter?”

He looked up at Ketar, not saying anything for a moment, nervous at what her response would be. His next question had the orc pull him into a lopsided hug of sorts, with the woman tightly squeezing him though he didn’t return the gesture. 

“Is it because I am a blood elf?”

She took a deep breath, which came out in a huff. “I do not know, but it does not matter, you are ours now, even if I must raise you myself.” She mused his hair, which was long and untamed, sticking up in all directions and covered in grime. He’d need a bath, among other things like clothes of his own other than the ones on his back that even after days at the orphanage, as the matron had told her, still smelled of Outland. They talked under the scorching Durotar sun more on the subject.

“But it doesn’t bother you?” 

“Not at all. Why? Does it you?” She replied, curious as why he was so hesitant. Honestly she was surprised at her own patience with the boy, but normally most would be ecstatic to have a new home, not almost sullen and downcast as a rainy day. 

“Well…” Aniryean was at a lost for words, wringing his hands and refusing to look up. “Orcs… attacked Silvermoon before, I thought… I thought orcs didn’t like us. My minn’da told me the stories...” Again Ketar squeezed him close. “If that were the case now, do you think that your people would be in the Horde? Back then was a different Horde. The same goes for the undead, once our kind attacked their city Lordearon as well.” Aniryean nodded at her words and didn’t press it any longer. 

Soon they were training again, in between swings of their swords questioning each other about their lives. “So what does your name mean, Feelodahl?” Ketar had trouble pronouncing such an odd name, and Aniryean corrected her again. “Felo’dal.” She dodged his swings with ease and blocked the next, pushing him back. 

“It means Flame Star. What does yours mean?” He stumbled on his next strike and took Ketar’s hand when she helped him out of the dirt, awaiting him to dust himself off. 

“I come from a line of wolf riders. My mother, my father, and their mothers and fathers before them all were wolfriders and mighty ones at that.” She grinned, remembering her mother’s old war stories. Perhaps she’d tell them to Aniryean, when he was more settled in. “They rode for the Horde?” He was sitting with his blade across his lap and she was about to scold him, but Ketar remembered something. This boy was found in Outland, her homeland and land of her ancestors. 

“No, child, in Nagrand, on the western side of Outland.” Aniryean’s eyes lit up and he hunkered down, preparing to listen to Ketar’s tale. “Can you tell me about it? I heard it’s pretty.”

Ketar laughed at the boy but nethertheless, joined him in the dusty soil, telling him all about the home she had grown up in and chasing wild talbuk on the back of her first wolf. Aniryean stared, eyes wide and leaning ever closer. Any time she stopped, he demanded to know more. More, what happened next, he had to know what happened next! She chuckled, ruffling his dirty hair again. “Why don’t you tell me more about you, young one?” 

The excitement drained from his face and the boy paled, as white as a sheet. Ketar flinched internally, wanting to tell him he didn’t have to, but Aniryean bit his lip and then started telling her anyway. Though she didn’t know much about Silvermoon and had never gone, he told her in detail about the apartment his parents had, near the magisterium and the droves of pilgrims that went to Outland his family had joined. Kael’thas had promised them a new land, their very own promised land free of the Scourge and other evils that threatened to fell their kingdom but it was all a lie. Aniryean didn’t dwell on it though, going back to talk about how nice and warm the summers were without being too hot, how he’d leave the windows open at night and sit out on the roof of the apartment below them and watch the stars even after his parents had put him to bed several times. 

“-I thought I was going to stay in Silvermoon, but when we got there, nobody would talk to me.” Ketar realized she’d drifted off in her thoughts at some point and hadn’t been paying attention to what he was saying for a few minutes. Instead of talking about how much he missed Silvermoon, which she had been imagining from his descriptions of the pristine streets and his spacious home there he was now bad mouthing about the Blood Elves. Why he seemed so irritated about them became clear soon enough. 

“...Said we were traitors. I don’t know why, I thought he, ah, Prince Kael’thas, was supposed to help us. And then I was getting sent to Orgrimmar, and… and then…” 

“Don’t mind them. You are too young to understand what happened, but it’s not your fault.” KEtar turned, seeing her mate. She came and kneeled before the two of them, patting Aniryean on the shoulder and giving him sweet words. Both women had heard the rumors that permeated the city and seen the looks on the Blood Elves, who’d come to serve the Warchief, the looks on their faces when they had heard what their prince had done.

He sold his people to demons. Just as Guldan had manipulated their people with the fel, Kael was doing unto his own, but that was too much for a child to know, even the two of them understood that. They wouldn’t hide that information from Aniryean, but rather, let him find out when he could handle such. His parents raised the boy to adore the prince for years and it would probably be years before he got over that fascination.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend of Siyegg and Ketar comes to visit, and they have a family breakfast. Aniryean isn't very helpful for errands, though.

She didn't return until late that night, hitching the worg back up and patting it's dense fur as it drank in the cool and fresh water. Siyegg quietly came inside the house that was as silent as it had been in days to find her mate curled around the boy and as much as both had frustrated her today she couldn't find it in her old heart to continue to be mad. It wasn't the boy's fault, not in the least, but she was not prepared for this. Neither of them were; they hardly had enough coin for them both nevermind a child who could eat them out of house and home and would grow like a weed.   
Siyegg sat at the table for some time, watching their slow breathing as they slept. What was she to do with them? What was she to do with the boy? He was in her spot and briefly she thought of shoving him over- but it would only lead to another fight with Ketar.

Ketar. Her love, her joy, for so many years they'd been at one another's side. Through battle and peace, hardship and splendor. This was nothing compared to what had long since come to pass and surely they would find a way through the hard times now as they always did. She looked to the boy again. He reminded her so much of the horrid things that happened so long ago; horrors done in part by her hands. As if there was any choice then though with demon blood controlling not only her but everyone's minds at the hands of that blasted warlock. 

Every time she looked at him she swore she could smell the burning- the burning of the elven kingdom while her battle companions cheered with victory however temporary. Her head ached so, so much. What was it worth to continue fighting this? To lose the love of her life over past mistakes? She couldn't bear the thought. Without Ketar, all spark in her life, her very will to live would be stripped away. A knock on the door, quiet and quick brought her out of her melancholy as she got up to answer it before it woke Ketar and Aniryean. She nearly tripped over the stool even, making more of a racket. Still, neither stirred. Training must have been rough on them both, Siyegg thought as she unlocked the door. It was none other than her old friend, Kiar, so she stepped outside to speak with him.

“It's been some time.” He greeted with a toothy grin and she couldn't help but laugh. After all these years he still had the same goofy looking and almost threatening smile. No amount of time could fix that.

“It has, what has brought you so far south?” He sat on one of the larger rocks in the garden and relayed news from the north about the war. Though she was retired, Siyegg couldn't help but give her advice and keep up on the news from the front. Her body may ache and groan from age, but war was in her blood. She itched to get out there again, to experience and thrive in bringing home honor. Kiar had little to share other than the usual; activity from the Alliance and Horde that was exactly as true as all other had said. She wished for something exciting to happen so there would at least be something more to talk about. He seemed to realize this, fiddling with the piercing that hung from his nose in thought.

“You could always join us, friend, I am sure Ketar would like to see another battle as well.” Siyegg couldn't help but sigh, looking back at the closed door. 

“Kiar, I wish I could but there are more things to my life now than battle.” He nodded in agreement but she raised a hand to stop him before he spoke. “Besides, we have a child now, evidently.” The look on Kiar’s face was one of pure joy and he scooped her up and nearly crushed her ribs with the force of the hug he gave her. Siyegg had to remind him to be quiet, as it was the middle of the night and Ketar was sleeping. The boy too. Still, the man could hardly contain his excitement. If only she were younger and had as much energy as he did.

“Where is the child? I wish to meet them! I was thinking that you and Ketar would never have one at this rate. Oooohh Siyegg, I am so happy for you, you wanted this for so long.” Kiar was going to wake everyone at this rate, even as she shushed him. “The boy is asleep, if you come by in the morning, you may meet him and watch him train with Ketar.” 

Kiar nodded, hugging her one last time before wandering down the road to Razor Hill, where he must have been staying at the inn while he was around. Siyegg waved him off as he left until he was out of sight. His words changed something in her. He was right, she had wanted a child for many years now. Surely if he, her closest friend for nearly half her life, had thought she’d given up, many others likely thought so as well. A more troubling thought came to mind. What if others thought that her and Ketar were simply desperate for taking in Aniryean? She grimaced and contained the growl growing in her throat. No matter, Ketar surely would feed such nay sayers to the wolves. Deciding that after the racket Kiar had caused it was best to not go back inside she laid down next to the wolf that served as her and Ketar’s mount for so long, running her hands through the beast’s fur. Some of the shed that stuck to her fingers came back gray despite the rest of the animal being a deep burnt orange just like the Durotar soil.

“You’re getting grays, just like me old friend.” The wolf licked her hand and spat out the fur that was stuck to it, causing her to laugh. “Maybe you would like a nice young pup to play with too, wouldn’t you?” She talked to the animal and brushed it idly, looking up at the stars. Even now, the difference from the sky back where she was born, on Draenor, it still amazed her. Soon the shaman fell asleep under those stars, not waking up until the morning. 

\---

For Aniryean it hadn’t come soon enough. Once the sky was bright he was awake and eating a quick breakfast before jumping back onto the bed to rouse Ketar. The orc woman covered her face with her arms, groaning that the sun was barely up. Training, even for him, wasn’t for at least another few hours. 

“But I want to! I’m just so excited!” Finally Ketar rolled out of bed, grumbling about how noisy the blood elf was. He laughed and ran around her; nearly tripping her several times. “Aniryean, please. Aniryean…” He continued, babbling excitedly about what forms he wanted to try today from the ones he remembered her talking about the previous day. After the last time he almost knocked her down she became fed up with it and grabbed his arm as she kneeled down. Already her knee was begining to hurt.   
“Please, if you must be so loud, go play outside for a while. There are things to do first.” 

“Like what?” 

“For starters, finding where my love has run off to.” She’d noticed that Siyegg wasn’t in bed when she woke up. Perhaps she’d been more hurt by their bickering than she realized and hadn’t come home at all. Aniryean too seemed to realize this and pointed out he hadn’t seen her since he had gotten up either. 

“I’ll go look outside!” He opened the door and went to run out it to check the yard or maybe the garden, but crashed into the almost tree trunk like legs of an orc instead. He looked up at the orc, who flashed a massive toothy grin at him. The boy found the smile unnerving at looked up almost as if in fear before the man reached down and scooped him up. That there was the moment he shrieked and tried to scramble away as the stranger grabbed him. Ketar was nearly howling in laughter at the ordeal.

“So this is the whelp!” The man laughed and finally stopped trying to get the boy into a hug. He laughed even louder when Aniryean scrambled to hide behind Ketar, peeking out behind her hip. Ketar put a hand on his shoulder and stepped around the boy so that he was in front of her now, grasping both his shoulders now so he couldn’t get away. 

“Aniryean, be still. This is a great old friend of ours, Kiar.” After being properly introduced he calmed down quite a bit, no longer trying to get away from the man except for when he tried to hug him again, though this was more playful than of fear. Still, Kiar’s arms were wider than the boy’s head, so there may of been some suspicion that he would have crushed him to death from what was supposed to be an affectionate gesture. The three of them sat at the table and chatted over breakfast; second breakfast for Aniryean, and Kiar informed them that Siyegg was tending to the worg and her garden. Kiar laughed and slapped Aniryean on the back suddenly. 

“Oh this boy, he truly is an elf, everything about him is dainty, even how he eats!” The orc continued laughing, spitting food all over the place. Aniryean didn’t see what was so weird or dainty about how he ate, he was actually shoveling food in in a way that would have made his mother scold him relentlessly. Putting down the chop of meat he turned to the large man.

“How else am I supposed to eat it?” The man and Ketar laughed again. “What?” Wiping a tear of laughter from her eyes, Ketar patted his shoulder a little rougher than he would have liked and told him to just go find Siyegg. Not understanding, be shoved the rest of the food in his mouth and stopped at the door, puffing up his cheeks and blowing a huge raspberry at the both of them, and small chunks of food as well. It didn’t have the insulting effect he wanted, instead Kiar laughing louder and pounding the table with his fist, claiming that was more like it. Dissapointed by his lack of intimidation, he huffed and went outside, temporarily blinded by the bright desert sunlight. Before he could see, Siyegg spotted him from where she was kneeled down in front of her garden, tending a patch of herbs.

“So I see you met Ketar, young one.” Still blinking away the spots in his vision, the boy nodded and roughly swallowed his mouthful of food. He knew Siyegg didn’t like him, or at least, wasn’t fond of him yet. It would be bad to be rude and make it worse.

“Yes ma’am.” 

The woman stopped, turning to him and giving him an incredulous look. He didn’t know what it meant, but he must have done something wrong to deserve it, so he apologized. Siyegg stopped him. 

“There is no need for that. Come, help me do some errands today; Ketar will be busy catching up with Kiar, it’s been a few years since he visited.” She stood, slowly, bracing herself on her knee until she could get up and it didn’t go unnoticed. Aniryean could see that she had many scars and marks across her legs, some that looked like they were swollen. He wanted to ask, but… Honestly, Siyegg scared him a little bit. She wasn’t loud and didn’t say everything that came to her mind like Ketar- No Ketar was fun like that, even if he’d only known her for a little while. And she was nice. Siyegg, he had no idea what Siyegg was like, other than that her friend Kiar was loud and noisy too. 

Siyegg picked up a basket filled to the brim with fresh herb clippings and put it in the bag on the wolf then patted the massive animal on the head. When he approached it, the wolf stuck its huge snout right in his face, sniffing and snorting. Aniryean tried to cover his face, but his thin arms were no match for a beast seemingly entirely made of muscle and fluff. 

“Be a good girl, he’s okay.” Just like that, the wolf stopped a moment and Aniryean was able to get up and wipe himself off, only to be knocked down again as it started licking him. He laughed, eventually grabbing onto the animal’s collar and hoisting himself onto her back with fistfuls of fur to anchor himself as Siyegg climbed on in back of him. As they started riding, he realized he had no idea where they were going or what kind of errands they were running. 

The thought that maybe they were going back to the orphanage stuck the boy, but it was far too late to hop off now, with the wolf under him running full speed and dodging cacti and thorn bushes at lightning speed. After a while of riding in complete silence, Aniryean couldn’t take it anymore and started blurting out what was on his mind; a million questions at once. 

“WherearewegoingitsnotbacktotheorphanageisitIdontwanttogobackthereKetarsaidwewouldn’tgoback- Woah!” The wolf stopped suddenly, due to Siyegg tugging on the reigns and he lurched forward and hard, almost enough to tumble off the wolf. She hopped down and pulled Aniryean off, placing him feet first on the ground, as if he were something fragile and would break easily. 

“Boy- Aniryean, please, slow down.” She held one hand to her head, another on his arm, and he frowned. Why did any time he talk did she get mad? “But-”

“Please, stop. Just stop a moment.” But he still had questions! The woman rubbed her temples, mouthing something under her breath. Before he could speak, she held a finger to her lips. Aniryean was growing very very tired of being treated like a prop by her, being talked over, and told to shush. If his mother could see him now, she’d probably of disowned him as he chomped down on the orc’s finger and darted off through the bushes. If Siyegg wasn’t going to tell him where they were going, that had to mean it wasn’t someplace good. It was never a good thing when someone wouldn’t say where they were going. Ever.


End file.
